


scattered hearts, broken hearts, i don’t feel a thing

by orphan_account



Series: keep me by your side [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, LATER, Love, M/M, Making Love, Moving On, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Summer Love, Summer Romance, The Author Regrets Everything, True Love, Until There Is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 22:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12662577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Elio stood next to his father and watched as the taxi pulled up front of them. The months following Oliver had rolled on by, even his visit at Christmas, or rather, Hanukkah, seemed miles away.“I might be getting married in the spring.”“I can’t do this.”“I’d love nothing better than to take your clothes off and at the very least hold you. But I can’t.”“Then maybe you shouldn’t stay. They know about us.”He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not ever.___A four part angst with a happy ending because this pairing now owns me.





	scattered hearts, broken hearts, i don’t feel a thing

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the film guys. I cried so much. Loved it too. I'm so hoping for a sequel, their love was too pure for it to end like that! D:
> 
> And I'm back with another fix-it of sorts. It gets worse before it gets better, I'm afraid. As always, my writing cannot compare to Andre Aciman's brilliance. This is purely indulgent fun to make me feel better. 
> 
> This takes place the summer after Oliver and is a mix of the book's and film's end, before the years gone by because my frail heart has chosen to ignore that amount of time. 
> 
> I own no one. Any mistakes are my own.

* * *

Elio stood next to his father and watched as the taxi pulled up front of them. The months following Oliver had rolled on by, even his visit at Christmas or rather, Hanukkah, seemed miles away.

_“I might be getting married in the spring.”_

_“I can’t do this.”_

_“I’d love nothing better than to take your clothes off and at the very least hold you. But I can’t.”_

_“Then maybe you shouldn’t stay. They know about us.”_

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That memory was still too painful to look back on. He was frightened that he would never fall in love again. That his heart was forever taken by Oliver. That their summer romance, hazy and beautiful as it had been, was all he would ever experience in his life. He doubted that he’d ever feel the kind of need, hunger and desire he had when Oliver had first kissed him. When he’d felt Oliver’s hands all over his body, pressing him into the mattress, whispering endearments in his ear, making love to him at midnight.

He opened his eyes.

He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not ever.

The newcomer stepped out of the taxi. He had dark, brown hair and green eyes. He smiled upon seeing them. He had dimples in his cheeks. “Mr. Perlman,” he greeted them, holding out his hand, bag at his feet. He was wearing shorts, converses and a t-shirt.

Elio wanted to throw up. He wanted to run away to his spot and hide there. He wanted to forget anything had ever happened because now there was a new person standing there where Oliver had once stood, shaking his father’s hand, like Oliver had, smiling at him, like Oliver had once.

No, not like Oliver. Never like him.

Elio felt nothing. Maybe that was better. He grabbed the newcomer’s bags and faked a smile, following his father into the house. He showed the newcomer – _Luke_ – to his room and set his bags down.

“You’re Elio, right?” Luke asked, turning to face the younger man. Elio had turned eighteen in the last September (when Oliver had come to stay that December, he'd bought him a couple of books as a present and Elio had read every one) and had grown about an inch or two. He was the same height as Luke. A twenty-two year old graduate who was hoping to publish is novel on Italian history.

Elio turned his green eyes on Luke. He wondered if Luke could see the dash of hazel in them. If he wanted to hold him like Oliver had. If he saw something in Elio, if he wanted to keep him and treasure him the ways that Oliver hadn’t been able to. As soon as the thought was there, he pushed it away. He couldn’t start thinking like that.

“Yeah,” he replied instead and shook the man’s hand. “I’m down the hall. We share the bathroom. I’ll call you for dinner.” And then he promptly left. Better that way. He didn’t miss the way Luke’s eyes stayed on him until he left. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

*

Elio found that Luke was kind and sweet and if not for Oliver, he would have wanted to like him more. But he couldn’t. It was like a looming cloud over his head. Almost as if he was betraying the old Elio who had fallen head over heels for an American man with his blond-brown hair and blue eyes and warm smile and large hands and wise mind and – _stop it_ , Elio thought _. Don’t go down that road_.

He was currently reading like he did most days in the summer, when he wasn’t swimming or riding his bike or helping Luke discover the new found town he was in. He liked Luke. He was a nice person. But the thought of him made Elio want to cry. He was doing all the things (well, not all the things) that Oliver had, eating where he had, dancing where he had, sleeping where he had, swimming and reading, talking to his father, his mother.

All of it made Elio feel a little nauseous. How easily life went on and time passed and people replaced other people and how faces became a mix of eyes and skin, until you forgot who it was you were originally pining over. Okay, maybe, he had his nose buried in his book far too long. He put it down and sighed, lying back on the grass, watching the summer sky.

He wondered what Oliver was doing. If he was married. If he had children yet. _Stop it._ He had to remind himself. Marzia was lying next to him. They weren’t back to where they had been. They were friends, for life, that’s what they’d agreed on. Elio still loved her, still cared for her but if he tried to open his heart again, he wasn’t sure if he would get it back, or that he even wanted that.

No, what he wanted was Oliver.

“If you keep frowning like that, you’re going to permanently have lines on your face,” she said softly, taking his hand. He turned to face her. She was beautiful. Elio knew he liked women and men. And if he had never met Oliver, perhaps he and Marzia would have worked out, because he had liked their time together, and he had had feelings for her, or he would have fallen for someone else. But that wasn't an option anymore. His heart was taken by an American man who was getting married. 

He laughed and then looked back at the sky. “Your new house guest is nice, no?” she asked when she saw that he would not comment on what he had been thinking about. Or who rather.

Elio shrugged, “yeah. He’s fine.” He could hear the phone ringing in the house.

“We should go dancing again,” she said, smiling at him. He looked at her and nodded. _Yeah, we should_. He rested his forehead against hers and kissed the tip of her nose.

“We should,” he replied and drew back. In the house, he could hear his parents talking on the phone to someone. He wondered if his parents knew what happened to Oliver. After his visit, correspondence had been sparse. He guessed that was because of the wedding.

“You must come, come and stay,” he could hear his mother saying. Elio sat up and followed the sounds of his parents chatter into the backroom. “Elio will be so happy to see you,” his father was saying.

Elio frowned. He wondered who it could be. Surely no relatives would be coming to visit as they had only just seen them a couple of weeks ago. Marzia had followed him and was standing next to him.

“Who’s coming to visit?” Elio asked, looking at his father when he handed the phone back to his mother to continue the conversation.

His father smiled at him knowingly. His heart skipped a beat.

Marzia took hold of Elio’s hand and squeezed.

Elio dared not think his name.

 _Oliver_.

*

Oliver arrived the following week, just three weeks into Luke’s stay.

 _Where would he sleep?_ Elio wondered. Would they pick up where they left off? Falling into bed together, hands on each other’s skin. Or would he bring his new family, the one that Elio could never and would never be a part of.

When Elio heard the car pull up outside his house, he locked his bedroom door and got into bed. He ignored his father’s calls and his mother’s questions. He closed his eyes and prayed that the feeling in his stomach would go away. The painful ache was back. _Had it ever really left?_ He thought.

He could hear him inside the house. Almost like he was inside him. Like he had been before he went back to the States. When he’d kissed and praised him, where he’d kissed Elio’s tears away and held his hands as they made love. When his lips had been all over his body, his moans and grunts in his ear, where their bodies had become one and Elio saw the light of the stars in Oliver’s eyes.

He shook his head and prayed that Oliver wouldn’t find him. Wouldn’t come for him. If he didn’t then maybe he could move on. Fall for someone else. If he opened his bedroom door and found Oliver there, he was sure that he would fall for him all over again. Like he had ever stopped.

“Elio,” he said. He knocked on his bedroom door. “Elio, please open the door.”

Elio closed his eyes on his tears and refused to move.

“Elio, _please_.” When Elio made no move to open the door, Oliver said, “will you not speak to me at all, Oliver? You won’t look at me, hug me, greet me?”

Elio wanted to throw his pillow at the door and scream into the mattress. He wanted to throw his books at him and curse him for leaving him, for moving on when they had agreed to keep in touch. He did none of those things. He waited with baited breath and a sob in his throat, until Oliver moved away. _Good_ , Elio thought when he heard Oliver sigh sadly.

He wanted to punish him.

But really all he wanted to do was kiss him.

*

Elio had to eventually come out of his bedroom for dinner.

His heart was pounding by the time he went out into the garden where everyone was eating. The minute he stepped out, Oliver looked up. He was sitting next to Luke. _God_ , Elio thought. _He’s beautiful._ He missed those blue eyes and that stupid smile. He missed his words and his mannerisms. He missed feeling safe and loved and wanted.

His breath caught in his throat the moment his eyes landed on Oliver’s and he was sure the same thing happened to the older man. They stared at each other while everyone else at the dinner table, his mother, father and Luke watched on, unsure of where to look. Luke looked thoroughly confused.

“Elio,” Oliver said, smiling. There was an anxious look on his face, something vulnerable in his eyes. He couldn’t stop staring at Elio.

Elio blushed despite himself and sat down at the table. He kept his eyes on his once lover. “Oliver,” he replied and then looked away. If Oliver could move on, then so could he.

“Oliver’s back to do more research,” his mother said. “The book he was writing has been published. This is his second.”

Elio nodded and started eating, pretending that the most important thing in the world was the food going into his mouth. He didn’t miss the disappointed look on Oliver’s face. Oh, how he wanted to hug him, fall into his arms and kiss him. But there were barriers there now, a wall of ice, something cold and bitter had sprang up inside Elio and _no_ , _no_ , he hadn’t ever really forgiven Oliver for going on with his life, as ridiculous as that sounds.

He got up and left the dinner table the moment he was finished. He grabbed his bike and met Marzia where they had all those moons ago. He wanted to dance.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are welcome!


End file.
